Tell Me What You Want
by 27hope
Summary: A 3x13 post-episode ficlet. (REPOSTED!) After Felicity confronted Oliver in the Foundry, he asked to speak with her alone. Things get heated very quickly and feelings come to the surface that they both have been trying to hide.


**A/N: Hey guys! So I posted this the other day and realized the formatting got messed up, so we are trying it again. I wrote this quickly after the 3x13 episode when I was prompted with Oliver and Felicity getting into a heated discussion after she confronts him in the Foundry when he yells at Thea. This is what it lead to - a VERY heated discussion and other things..LOL. **

**As always, I love to hear what you think! I am going to try to post over here more often. To keep up with more of my stories and postings, you can follow me on tumblr at .com or on twitter at 27hopedreamlove. Thanks!**

He was staring at her, eyes blazing as she held his gaze, both unwavering in their silent battle of unspoken words. She'd seen the effect her words had on him, the way his chest rose and then fell along with his face. She knew he understood that she wasn't just talking about the team, but them as well.

Her words echoed in the space between them and her heart ached for everything laying at their feet. She wasn't even sure how they'd gotten to this place where she felt as if an ocean separated them, and she hated it.

Her sleep was restless and she woke weary, heart confused and aching for understanding where she could find none.

Seconds passed and she knew Digg and Roy were giving them space, staying silent for their own sakes as well as for she and Oliver.

She watched transfixed as his chest rose and fell with every labored breath, her own heart thrumming against her rib cage, blood rushing to her ears.

He was the one to break the overwhelming silence.

"Can I talk to you?" his voice was low and rough, and her body responded immediately, betraying her.

Letting out a long slow breath, she gritted her teeth, her hands balling into small fists at her sides as she stormed past him, and up the steps into the club.

Her heels clacked on the concrete floor, and she could feel him behind her but all she could see was her own black pumps and the tiny spots dancing in front of her eyes.

She found a dark alcove and stopped, spinning on her heel, ready to lay into him, only to be surprised at his sudden nearness.

Her hand met leather and her eyes trailed up from his chest to meet his dark, heated gaze. A silent battle took place inside her, the urge to reach for him against the urge to push him away.

He loomed over her, the leather of his jacket pressing into her, so with each breath her chest brushed his and it caused her mouth to fall open as her eyes searched his in the darkened corner.

She gasped at the intensity she found in them, pupils blown wide as unguarded desire stared back at her, swirling with everything else, said and unsaid, between them.

"Oliver…" she breathed, and she meant it to come out more determined, angrier than it actually did.

Instead, it was almost soft and tired, almost irritated, and it was the small groan that left his lips that flipped something inside of her.

Suddenly, she was pushing up on the balls of her feet, hands unfurling and fisting in to the lapels of his leather jacket as he covered his mouth with her own. The smell of leather and spice filled her and she let it wrap around her, surrounding her with everything him.

A low rumble started in his chest and she felt the vibrations against her skin. A flood of warmth surged through her and before she could do anything, his hands were on her sides, gripping her hips as he stepped forward, trapping her completely between the wall and his body. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and she gasped, their tongues tangling at the same time he lifted her off the ground.

Her legs twined around his torso, her skirt hiking up as his hands ran the length of her legs, fingers slipping beneath the hem and up to the edge of her underwear.

She threw her head back, fire racing through her veins as images flashed behind her eyelids. Fantasies and dreams of him and her and this…It was better than all of those combined. Her dream Oliver had nothing on the real thing.

Her fingers scrabbling at the back of his neck, arching towards him as his lips found a spot on her throat that had her seeing stars, her legs squeezing him, feeling his erection pressed between them. He grunted and she writhed as his hands continued to trail back and forth along her underwear, slow and steady until she almost couldn't take it anymore.

Every touch sent a spark straight to her core, and all the weeks of not knowing if he was alive, all the nights she'd woken up dreaming of this…of having him in her arms - in her - flew through her mind.

She craved this. Craved him. Her heart. Her body. Everything.

His lips continued their descent, nipping across her collarbone, to the edge of her shirt which was suddenly too hot and too tight and needed to be off.

Raking her hands along his scalp, she trailed them up and then down over his neck and into the collar of his jacket, surprised to find nothing but skin beneath the leather.

With shaking hands, she found the zipper and quickly slipped it down as far as she could, pushing it open as he sucked what she knew would be a mark into her skin.

Her nails scraped across his nipples and he growled, hips jerking up and into her.

She gasped at the delicious friction and canted her hips, trying to find that release that she so desperately needed.

"Felicity…" her name was a whispered plea from his lips and she knew then that she could deny him nothing - that she didn't want to deny this - them.

Her hands found his cheeks, cupping and raking her fingernails through his stubble. Tilting his head up, she met his gaze, bare emotions staring back at her. Gone was the anger-fueled lust,replaced with love, and longing and desire for her and it caused their frenzied pace to come to a crashing halt.

"Oh Oliver," she murmured, her eyes slamming shut as his breath skittered over her skin.

She felt his exhale and the way his hands moved back down her thighs as if he was pulling away, and she didn't want that…didn't want them to retreat again.

"No," she grunted, opening her eyes and clasping her legs tighter around him. "You don't get to leave again. You don't get to walk away. You don't get to tell me you love me and then walk out of my life. Face me. Look at me. Tell me what you want, Oliver Queen. Tell me. Because I can't…"

She shook her head and focused back on him and not her.

Somehow, her voice was steadier than she felt as she held his face between her hands.

His gaze faltered, and she swiped her fingers beneath his eyes. "What do you want, Oliver? Not what you think you have to do to keep people safe; not what the city expects you to do. What do you want?"

Cobalt eyes traced her face, sadness warring with absolute want and she watched as the battle raged inside of him, wrapped around him, holding him close, knowing he had the power to make or break them right then.

The longer the silence stretched, the more her confidence faltered, and then began to slip completely.

She was about to release him when he shifted, his head falling into the crook of her neck, pressing a kiss just above her heart.

When he lifted his head and met her gaze once more, it was one word, and it was all she needed to hear.

"You," he vowed. "I want you. Always you."

A stuttered sob worked it's way up his throat and she felt the tears spill over as she pulled him in, slanting her mouth over his and pouring herself into that kiss.

Oliver's hands shifted up her back and to her head, gently shifting his fingers through her hair as he took control of the kiss and slowed their movements down, his tongue languidly stroking hers, pulling sounds from the back of her throat.

"You," he kept repeating when he finally broke away, peppering kisses along her jaw and neck. He kissed the top of her industrial piercing and bit down softly on her earlobe that caused her fingernails to dig into the leather on his shoulders.

"I love you," she murmured, and she felt him freeze.

Lifting his head, he stared up at her in slight disbelief. "What?"

She didn't even hear him speak the words, only his lips moving let her her know he had spoken.

Leaning her forehead against his, she smiled and stated, "I love you, Oliver Queen."

His eyes searched hers, happiness shining from deep oceans of blue and then they slipped shut as he leaned up and pressed his mouth to hers before letting his head fall to rest in the crook of her shoulder.

She wrapped him up in her arms and held him, finally together and neither letting go.


End file.
